The Springs

We went to the hot springs when we wanted something to happen. I don't think we were even sure what exactly, only that it was something unlikely to happen in our bedrooms or basements or outside the old downtown cinema where we hung out after school. The springs were in eastern Idaho—a couple hours' drive. Most things around there were. They were real hot springs, nothing marked, no admission fee. You just took the left turn-off past mile-marker 12 and parked in the dirt. We went in winter so sometimes the path was white with snow, sometimes black with ice.

Most times I went with Effie and a few others—the Willcott brothers, usually, and whoever they were dating that week. This time we were bringing Jennie Lee, Macon's younger sister. Effie had been in love with Macon since his family moved to Stevensville the year before. He was two years older than us—a senior, but he seemed older. Effie watched him all the time. We couldn't go within two blocks of the hardware store where he worked without her whole body shifting as if she had magnets inside her perfect, pale chest. Suddenly she'd have an urgent need for thumbtacks, or lighter fluid. I had heard somewhere about an animal with two pairs of eyelids, cats maybe, or lizards. I was always reminded of that watching her with him. We'd stand at the counter and it was like her eyes opened up entirely differently, talking with him there about thumbtacks.

We saw Macon downtown, too, or at parties, but Effie got flustered when there wasn't the counter between them, and I had to do all the talking. I could have been in love with him, too, he was that kind of guy. But it didn't work like that with Effie. When she wanted something it took up all the air in the room. So I didn't think about Macon, not like that.

Effie brought up the hot springs at the hardware counter. It was Friday. I guess she was feeling braver than usual. Maybe it was the paint fumes. She mentioned the trip like we'd been talking about going all week, but it was news to me. The weather was right, though. Late February, cold enough to want the hottest pools but not so cold it hurt just taking off your clothes.

The air in the hardware store smelled like popcorn. I shifted my weiht from foot to foot, and watched a new kid work the key grinder.

"You should come," I told Macon. Effie would never say it, and we'd end up standing there all day.

"I can't this weekend," he said. "Work, you know?" He tugged on his apron with an exaggerated grimace.

Of course, Effie and I both knew his schedule by heart. Then he smiled at me.

"But hey—Jennie's been dying to go. She was just talking about it."

Jennie Lee was two years behind us in school. She had small bones and quick eyes.

"I don't know how you'd feel about letting a freshman tag along," Macon said. The store was pretty busy, but he leaned against the counter like we were the only ones there. If Effie wanted to believe this meant something, she could, but I'd seen him do it with old ladies, too.

"Great," Effie said. "We love Jennie."

"We love Jennie?" I whispered on our way out. Effie quickened her pace, dragging her fingers along the metal shelves as we passed.

Her long nails made sharp clicks.

I glanced once more at Macon before pushing open the door. Jennie Lee had his eyes.

We left for the springs the next afternoon, stopping first at the Amoco east of town. If the Willcotts' older sister was working, she wouldn't card us. She was, and we got two bottles of red wine, a bag of Fritos, and some Slim Jims. Usually the boys brought beer but wine was better for a girls' night, Effie said.

Jennie met us at the door. The sky...